R E D R I B B O N
by Melvyn
Summary: Serena is a psychic and travels to NY to solve a murder case. She thinks it's simple, but she didn't anticipate meeting a sexy possessive vampire determined to claim her, or, the the dark vendetta she's been running from. DareSere
1. Prologue

**- () -**

**RED RIBBON**

**Prologue**

**- () -**

"_Genevieve," the man rasped._

_Silent tears poured down Genevieve's face and she tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry from the cotton gag in her mouth._

"_Now, now Genevieve, don't cry," he said in a mock soothing voice which made Genevieve shudder uncontrollably, "What colour do you suit?" _

_Idly he picked up strings of colourful ribbons, debating and consulted them with her skin tone, further grating on Genevieve's intense fear._

"_I think the peach, how about you?" He murmured, holding the ribbon in front of her vision draped over his thin bony finger._

_Genevieve whimpered, the orange ribbon glowed in the dark dank room like a beacon of hope, but it was all false she wasn't going to get out of here._

_Taking clumps of her hair, he tied the curls into little bundles and finished each knot with a perfect bow._

"_You have lovely hair," He whispered, picking up his sliver scissors._

_Positioning the sharp blades under one ribbon there was a sharp 'snip' and the curl fell in his hand. Each snip seemed to ring louder and louder in her ears as the comfortable heaviness of her hair decreased to nothing._

"_There – all mine," He said, picking up a curl and rubbing it against his cheek._

"_Now," he breathed into her ear, "I'm done and so are you."_

**- () -**

Serena jerked up from her bed, bringing her knees up she panted, her body covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Recalling her chilling dream, she scrambled from the suffocating bed and flicked on her side lamp. Shuffling through her desk she looked for her trusty note pad, locating it, she struggled to keep her silver pen within her fingers as she scribbled the details on a new page. Reading the entry, she took a shuddering breath as she added little details she had forgotten.

Slumping on her bed she glanced at her digital clock, 4:01. Fanning her face she came to the conclusion that she wasn't going to sleep again, especially after that horrifying dream.

Heading to the shower of her modest country cottage, she peeled her sweaty tank top off and started the shower. Sliding under the cascading water, she quickly lathered her silvery blonde locks and covered her body with thick foam. Finishing, Serena wrapped a towel round her body and shivered as she exited the steamy bathroom. Re-dressing she pulled on a pair of jeans, tee-shirt and zip up jacket before walking swiftly to her little office. Starting her lap-top she connected to the internet. Thinking for a moment, she presumed her dream ended with murder and typed in 'Genevieve homicide' then pushed search.

Serena was long out of the business of helping spirits, she used to work for the police as a detective but after a close encounter with death she had gone into hiding. To avoid being discovered, she stopped helping spirits and blocked out most dreams with amulets and charms. However, the dream of Genevieve had been so insistent she couldn't let it go.

Almost instantly links appeared on screen, scanning the brief summaries she clicked onto an American news site. At once her eyes were drawn to the bold title – _'Woman found bald.'_

'_Last week the body of missing woman Genevieve Ryan's was discovered in Central park, 72 hours after she first went missing. Miss Ryan was reported going to work Tuesday morning but never arrived. She was found Friday morning, wrapped in orange ribbon, her hair crudely removed. The nature of her murder is presumed to be by the Scissor Serial killer, who is responsible for seven other deaths over the space of 26 years. In the past cases the killer was never apprehended and all paths came to dead ends. Each woman was found in ordinary places, hairless and wrapped in ribbons of varying colours. Until the autopsy results are released the cause of death is yet to be determined.'_

"Central park?" Serena pondered for a second, "Damn that's all the way in New York."

Groaning she turned her lap-top off and prepared breakfast. Devouring her crumpets, she grabbed her cordless phone and, single-handily, dialled Andrews's memorized number.

Patiently waiting, the phone was picked up by a sleepy Andrew.

"Hey Andrew!" She said.

"Serena its 5:15, let me sleep," he moaned.

"Shut up this is important," she snapped, "I had a dream –" Andrew groaned cutting her off.

"Listen to me you lazy idiot, I had a dream about a woman called Genevieve and I checked it out on the net and she was murdered last week. She and the other women killed by this Scissor Serial killer need my help!" She blurted quickly, not wanting to be interrupted.

"Whoa whoa whoa! Andrew said, "Slow down, repeat slowly, it's friggin' five in the morning!"

"I had a dream about a woman, her name is – was Genevieve. Got this?"

"Mmm," Andrew muttered.

"She was murdered last week, by the Scissor Serial killer –"

"Stupid name for a serial killer," Andrew grunted.

"It's not funny!" Serena scolded, "The murderer was never caught and he keeps re-offending. I feel her fear, her horror."

"Okay! Sorry, no need to bite my head off," Andrew said, trying to calm her down.

"So that was my dream, I know its important, but I think I'll need help," Serena hinted.

There was a pause at the other side, "So in other words you want me to come with you."

"Yeah, I need your help for when I become vulnerable."

"Fine, so where is this place," Andrew asked carelessly.

"Um," Serena said awkwardly.

"Spit it out Serena!"

"New York," she sighed.

"New York, you've got to be kidding me! That's a whole other continent!"

"I know Andrew, but I'll pay for your ticket. Just please come with me." Serena begged.

"Fine. A holiday would be quite nice I guess," he grumbled.

"I love you!" Serena declared.

"So how much time do I have?" Andrew asked.

"I'd start packing now, I'll try and get the soonest flight."

"Brill, now let me sleep," He said.

Serena laughed, "You're the greatest. Have a good snooze."

"I'll try, but you've destroyed it, I was having a nice dream about a hot brunette dressed in a bikini," Andrew muttered.

"You need to get a girlfriend," Serena suggested.

"_And_ you are a hypocrite," Andrew retorted, putting the phone down.

Serena rolled her eyes and returned to her room. Digging within her closet, she pulled out her black rolling bag and began to pile her essentials within the cavity. Ticking off the items on her fingers, she tried to zip the bag closed, but the contents bulging within made it difficult. Sitting on the bag she managed to pull the zippers together and stick a lock on, by the time she had finished it was 6:30. Slipping on her knee length coat, she grabbed her hand bag and left the warm interior of her cottage into the frigid November weather.

Climbing into her four-wheel drive, she slipped her key into the ignition and started the diesel engine. Cruising through the driveway she made her way to London, keeping an eye out of the black ice on the country roads. Making it into town she stopped at the 24 hour supermarket and bought a cup of instant coffee. Serena smiled as she breathed in the strong pungent scent then, took a sip letting the hot liquid sear down her throat.

Over the next few hours, Serena purchased two tickets to New York and managed to organise all her bills and obligations, applying for leave from her job as a florist. Serena had to wince as she handed her card over to pay for everything – all that hard worked money! That money was intended to pay off her cottage mortgage, but Serena knew she _had _to help those women in New York – and protect future victims. As Serena walked through town she heard the twinkling of a phone and realized it was her own, fumbling through her bag she retrieved her cell phone and flicked it open.

"Hello?" She said.

"'Bout time," Andrew said, "You and technology just don't mix, still can't use your phone?"

"Oh shut up you prick! I just bought you a free holiday to New York!" She cursed, blushing softly.

"Only after you begged me to," Andrew pointed out.

"Shut up," Serena mumbled.

"Talking about my holiday to New York, what time are we leaving?" Andrew asked.

"Tonight, 7 o'clock, Heathrow Airport," Serena stated.

"Tonight? A little early don't you think."

"Hey, I'm paying remember. It's under my conditions," She smirked, "So get packing." With that she snapped her phone closed.

Serena hoped that things would go well, there was more riding on this trip to New York then Andrew knew – an element of danger that forced her to give up her paranormal career. Dragging her hand through her thick tresses, she made the goal to be as careful as possible, to stick to a schedule: find a place to stay, solve crime then come home.

Little did she know things _weren't _going to be that simple, the events to come would change her life – perhaps even destroy her.

**- () -**

**A response would be good if you can :) Thank you**


	2. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

"Is this the place?" Serena asked as she stepped from the taxi, wrinkling her delicate nose.

"Oh don't bitch," Andrew said, "New York is expensive."

"No more then London I presume," Serena said looking glumly over their new home.

The apartment building was large and imposing, with hundreds of windows trailing up it. Serena didn't like it. Pouting, she thought of her cute little cottage out in the country – oh how she missed England.

Less then two hours from touch down, Serena was home sick. To say the truth she didn't like New York, she thought London was bad, but this had topped even that. Firstly New York was constantly overshadowed by huge buildings, all dominating and impersonal. Everywhere Serena looked there was a building! Secondly, the traffic had never ceased, she had been amused by the cab driver as he pounded his horn every five seconds, but that faded into terror at his crazy driving skills.

"That's what you think," Andrew muttered, struggling under all the bags, "What the hell did you pack in this goddamned bag!"

"Clothes, what else would I pack?" She said sweetly, "But if you're too weak, I'll do it myself."

Andrew snorted, "Be my guest, I'd love to see try and pull _that_ up the stairs."

Serena sniggered and pulled at the heavy bag, following Andrew into the shabby apartment building. The place had grey walls with a vague smell of mildew and old smoke, Serena instantly hated it – she missed her little cottage.

"Lovely! Where the hell did you find this place Andrew?" Serena asked a sharp sting to her voice.

"Do you know how much time I spent looking for a place to stay?" Andrew said glaring darkly at her, "Yes; it's a shit hole, get over it."

"I'm working on it," Serena said.

"Sometimes you can be such a snob," Andrew said, "No wonder everyone calls us poms."

"I am not a snob!" Serena huffed indignantly, "And I am not a pom!"

Andrew rolled his eyes and led them to the stairwell. Serena gasped as she saw _thousands_ of worn steps twisting up the building.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Serena said indignantly, "Don't they have a lift anywhere?"

Andrew snorted, "Does it look like this building has a lift? Anyway we're in America now, we must do as Americans do and call it an _elevator._"

"It's a lift not a stupid elevator! Now help me get my bags up the stairs," Serena snapped.

"And you said you weren't a pom," Andrew muttered, taking her larger bag.

"I heard that!" She said behind him, evil thoughts of throwing her ten tonne bag into his head.

The first few steps were fine, until she got passed five, when Serena began to feel the effects of gravity and her unfit lifestyle. Of course Andrew just glided on easily, and Serena cursed him, her legs burning at the sudden hard workout.

"First floor Sere," Andrew said.

"Great. What floor is the apartment on?" She asked.

"Fifteen," He answered over his shoulder as he continued on.

"You're shitting me!" Serena exclaimed, groaning as she imagined all the stairs that would entail.

"Fourteen stairs up one floor, then times that by fifteen…" Serena said, feeling her mind tie into knots as she tried to work it out, "Jeeze where's a calculator when you need one!" Serena said exasperatedly.

"Fourteen _multiply _that by fifteen equals 210," Andrew stated.

"Hey I was trying to figure that out!" Serena grumbled.

"Emphasis on _trying_," Andrew laughed, "Remind me how many times you failed maths."

"Shut up you prick!" Serena yelled, a deep blush coating her already, exercise induced, pink cheeks.

In school she failed most of maths, and spectacularly flunked algebra. What twit stuck the alphabet with numbers! How can _a_ plus _b _equal _c_? She could never figure it out.

Panting harshly Serena felt sweat form on her hot body, ooh she hated physical activities. Serena was silent most of the ascent, her face pulled in a deep frown as she pictured the busy days to come. Boy, she was not ready for the hustle and bustle of New York; it made her wince as she thought of having to find her way through the complex twisting city.

"What floor are we now on?" Serena wheezed as they stopped on yet another landing.

"Floor seven," he said, adjusting his grip on the luggage.

Serena groaned and sat on her bag, her poor legs giving up. For the first time Serena regretted packing so much and calling Andrew weak – at least then he would be carrying everything up.

"Fine, I'll take your bag," Andrew said, "Besides it would be a waste of travelling here if you have a heart attack."

Serena stepped aside and watched Andrew pick her bag easily up, and resume the horrid climb. When they got to their floor, Serena felt relief, her legs wobbling as she leaned against the wall trying to catch her breath. That was the worst torture anyone could inflict upon a person! They seriously needed a lift!

"What room is it Andy?" Serena asked.

"Room 266," he answered.

"Urg, this is room 232," She said glancing at the nearest door, "It's going to be right at the end of this floor!"

"I'm sure you'll make it. Maybe we should check you into a _rest_ home before you check out," Andrew joked, surprisingly in good spirits after the 12 hour plane trip.

Serena sent him a withering look, "Hahaha, what a hoot!" She said sarcastically rolling her eyes, "No wonder you don't have a girlfriend."

"That coming from you," Andrew sniggered, "We don't have to wonder why you don't have a boyfriend, you whiner," he retorted.

"I am not a whiner!" She objected, "Let's get going," Serena muttered changing the subject, not willing to admit defeat. She felt hot and sticky, not to mention a little hungry, and all she wanted to do was climb into bed and sleep.

Arriving at 266 Serena turned to look at Andrew, following behind, his arms filled with bags – the majority of which was hers.

"Hurry up, jeeze it takes you ages. If you had been nice I might have helped," Serena said.

"You help me?" Andrew said sceptically, his eye brow rising amusedly, "Who almost went into cardiac arrest climbing the stairs?"

Serena sniffed, dismissing his comment, and held her hand out, "Keys."

"If you haven't noticed my hand are a little busy," indicating to the bags, "in my left jean pocket…no _my_ left," he said as she put her hand in the wrong pocket.

"Got them," she smiled, extracting them and inserting them into the brass lock.

Throwing the door open, Serena got a first look of the place they would be occupying. It was very basic, painted a disgusting green with rickety worn furniture, and led into a crammed kitchenette. Walking more into the room, she saw an exhausted couch and old TV, the dark carpet underneath the TV stand adorned with a hideous rug. Being ugly wasn't the reason Serena instantly dislike the place; it was the feelings associated with the room.

Serena wasn't a common psychic, she had her own special category,but she could sense the feelings attached to the apartment – that's why she didn't like old buildings. This particular apartment had sadness and failure linked to it, which put Serena into a low depressed mood.

"Lovely." Serena muttered, "Absolutely friggin' _lovely._"

Continuing on she saw a ridiculously tiny bathroom and one bedroom, thankfully, with two beds within.

"Hope you don't snore," Andrew said, coming up behind her. Serena glared at him.

"So what now?" She asked, her eyes revolving around the room, debating on how to make the area more…homely.

"I guess we should do some shopping before we start investigating," Andrew said, "After all the aeroplane food was revolting."

"It wasn't that bad – now who's is being the snob," Serena said smugly, crossing her arms.

"Hmm, but you love any food that's free," Andrew said.

"That is not true, food is included in the ticket, I read the ticket conditions," She corrected.

"Bravo! The girl can read!" Andrew said, turning around, "Now let's get going and find a supermarket or something."

"But its dark," Serena said.

"Unless you are afraid of vampires or something, that shouldn't be a problem. Remember this is the 21st century everything's open 24 hours," He said.

Serena stuck her tongue out, "Fine let's go."

Walking together Serena looked affectionately at Andrew. Despite their constant sibling like banter, she wouldn't be with any other person. She had first met Andrew when she moved to London; he had been suffering from depression, in particular, schizophrenia, or so the doctors had diagnosed. However Andrew was an untrained psychic, confused and scared of the thoughts he picked up from other people. After helping him, they had become inseparable friends; he was her like her big brother, always there for her.

At the landing of the stairs Serena paused, "Uh Andrew, is there another way down that doesn't involve these stairs?"

"Yeah," Andrew said, "The fire escape."

**000**

Darien Shields shot his killer smile as he climbed from his limo, his gorgeous date, Beryl Reins, on his arm, a flurry of crimson material and long legs. Walking down the red carpet, he ignored the spectators pushing on the sides, and stepped into the large majestic building where the black tie event was being held.

He was one of the most well known and wealthiest men in New York; he had helped carve the city when immigration to America had first occurred. However, it was not like any mortal knew that, for though Darien Shields was one of the most eligible and wealthiest bachelors, he was also a vampire. More specifically, he was one of the oldest and most powerful vampires in existence, originating from Italy in the Renaissance era.

His company, Earth Incorporated, was the empire he had created here, involved in the law and the stock market, bringing large billion dollar influxes into New York. Presently he was attending the annual Charity Ball, an affair where large money was, donated by businesses from the goodness of their hearts. That was not the case though; the charity ball was an affair that distinguished the rich from the stinking rich, an event that, every year, became more competitive for dominance over the city.

The ball room, at the end of the spectacular corridors, was fantastic! It was giant, expanding forever with light marble floors and massive arching windows adorned in gold curtains. Multiple chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, basing around a massive kingly chandelier in the centre.

As Darien stood onthe platform, at the top of the wide curving stair case, he impassively watched the swirling mass of black tuxedos and gowns, varying from every colour in existence.

Beryl's grip increased possessively on his arm as she stood at the top of the stairs. Elation ran through her body like a drug as she looked up at Darien' devastatingly handsome face. She was a queen with her King of the Night, everything was perfect!

Flicking her dark red hair, they descended down the stairs – a striking couple. But Darien didn't care; she was just another leech, human or vampire, eager for his power, money and body. It had always been like that through the centuries, not that he really cared. The only thing he cared for was power.

_Power_ invoked fear. _Power_ was dominance._ Power_ could get you anything.

**000**

_Melvyn_


End file.
